


undone

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blindfolds, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Threesome - M/M/M, Trust Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It’s an exercise in trust, they tell him. To prove that he does trust them now, after everything; that he can let them have control without fighting it, without needing to know what’s happening and what’s going to happen.





	undone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cornerandchair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornerandchair/gifts).



It’s an exercise in trust, they tell him. To prove that he _does_ trust them now, after everything; that he can let them have control without fighting it, without needing to know what’s happening and what’s going to happen.

Which is how Jon ends up blindfolded, naked and on his knees on Tim’s bedroom floor, far enough from the walls and the bed that he can’t quite judge where everything is. His hands aren’t bound, though he’s been told to treat them as though they are - it’s better that way, apparently, him being able to move around and remove the blindfold if he wants to but that he’ll choose to _not_ , because they’ve asked.

(Martin had smiled at Jon, when he’d explained it, and it had made Jon’s stomach flip enough that he’s glad he’s not expected to stand)

He doesn’t know how long he’s been kneeling there. Long enough that he’s starting to shiver, though, so when he hears someone walking across the room to him and then is tugged up by his wrist he comes gratefully, albeit stiffly after so long on his knees. He’s pulled over to the bed, and he suspects from the height his wrist is held at that it’s Tim. The way he’s jerked forward so that he falls onto the bed confirms it, and then there are warm hands pulling him forward and closer to the pillows and, yes, this is Martin in front of him. He comes along willingly, leaning into the warm mass of Martin’s body and shivering when Martin strokes fingers through his hair.

“You were really good, Jon,” Martin is saying in his ear now. “Can you keep at it for Tim?”

Jon makes a desperate noise, opening his mouth to answer but then snapping it shut again when Martin taps a finger against his lips - he’s not to speak, at least not yet - and just nodding instead. He arranges himself, too, lifts his hips up into the air and waits because whatever Tim is intending to do, it— well. That will help, he knows that much.

Tim just snorts as he settles on the bed behind Jon.

“Really? You’re that desperate for it even without knowing what I’m going to do?”

“That’s good,” Martin interjects. “Isn’t it? You can do whatever you want. Right, Jon?”

Jon nods sharply, lifting his hips higher even as a jolt of fear runs through him at the not knowing; it could be _anything_ , and he’s hardly in a position to defend himself, and—

And it’s Tim, and Martin is there too, and as hostile as Tim sometimes still is toward Jon, he’s still _Tim_. He wouldn’t hurt Jon, at least not any more than Jon would… want, though neither of them are likely to ever admit any of that out loud.

He relaxes, slowly, and forces himself to stay that way as Tim grips his hip with one hand and uses the other to slide two slick fingers inside him. Martin keeps on stroking his hair all the while, curled over enough to whisper praise in Jon’s ear as Jon moans and grips at the blankets, as he’s spread open and stretched until he’s having to bite his lip bloody so that he doesn’t slip and beg for Tim’s cock while he’s not allowed to speak.

(he suspects Tim would enjoy having an excuse to punish him, admittedly, but he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if the punishment involved _not_ fucking him)

Eventually there’s a movement above his head - a gesture from Martin, he thinks - and then Tim is pulling his fingers out, torturously slow, and snorting again when the motion drags a wrecked noise from Jon’s lips.

“We could just leave you like this,” he comments. “Tell you not to get off and fuck next to you instead. Bet you’d crack, though.”

“Jon would behave,” Martin says. “He’s been great so far. Haven’t you?”

He’s stroking Jon’s face as he speaks, the pad of his thumb rubbing over Jon’s bleeding lip, and somehow the _softness_ of it is what really gets Jon. What has him trying to shift and hide his face in Martin’s chest, and whining in the back of his throat when Martin keeps ahold of his face and doesn’t let him.Tim’s bluntness makes him desperate, but Martin’s softness _undoes_ him, without fail.

One of Martin’s hands leaves his cheek to gesture above Jon’s head again and that’s all the warning he gets before Tim’s cock is sinking into him, just a little quicker than is completely comfortable. He jerks forward, but Martin holds him in place with gentle hands, back to stroking his face as Tim fucks into him hard enough to hurt. It’s a pace that says it’s all about Tim’s pleasure, not his; that Tim taking his fill is the important part and not whether Jon actually enjoys it.

(but they all know that he does, that being used like this gets him off harder than almost anything else, and that knowing they know that only makes it all the more intense)

It doesn’t take long before Jon is gasping and shaking with it, moaning breathlessly and gripping the sheets with both hands and hovering right on the edge.

“Oi,” Tim tells him, voice ragged as he grips Jon’s hips hard enough to bruise. “Nothing for three days if you come without permission. Think you can hold out, boss?”

Jon nearly begs, then, because he’s so _close_ and he knows that Tim can and will go through with the threat. He can barely think straight enough to consider that speaking without permission might well earn him the same punishment - he’s too desperate, too caught up in it - but Martin catches it before he can speak and slips two fingers into his mouth, pressing them down on his tongue and holding his mouth open so that the words turn into a long, loud groan instead.

“You’re too easy on him,” Tim mutters from behind him. Martin just laughs quietly.

Tim keeps up the brutal pace, fucking into him for what feels like hours but is probably minutes, before he finally slams his hips forward one last time and stills as he comes with a groan. He pulls out almost immediately, reaching around to touch Jon and making him jerk and nearly bite down on Martin’s fingers when the combination of that and the sensation of Tim’s come dripping out of him nearly push him over the edge.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” Tim admits, and lifts his hand to scrape his nails over the skin of Jon’s hip instead. “Color me impressed. You can be a _well-behaved_ slut, huh?”

Jon shudders and nearly sobs at that, shaking with desperation. _Please_ , he thinks, and only manages to hold back from saying it because of the fingers in his mouth. Those are pulled out a moment later, though, and then Tim is pushing him forward and Martin is pulling him up until he’s kneeling in front of him, Martin close in front of him and Tim crowded up behind him.

“Do you think you can come without being touched?” Martin asks, and Jon nods sharply.

“Good,” Martin goes on. “You should do that, okay? You have permission.”

He moves his head to kiss at the front of Jon’s throat, sucking a mark into the skin, and Jon is left shaking in front of him, desperate and overwhelmed and feeling Tim’s come dripping down his thighs. And then Tim is moving in to bite the back of his neck, hard, and that’s all it takes to push Jon over the edge; to have him sobbing out his orgasm and only held upright by Martin’s hands on him. It goes on for longer than he can keep track of, and if his eyes weren’t already covered he thinks his vision would have blacked out, and all the while he has Martin kissing his throat and whispering praise against his skin and Tim peppering bites across the back of his neck.

When he finally comes down from it he’s shaking, and he lets them guide him down onto his back; lets Martin stroke his hair and kiss at his forehead while Tim moves away and then comes back to run a wet washcloth over his skin. When one of them lifts the covers up he crawls under them gratefully, settling into Martin’s arms and relaxing further when Tim slides under the covers to rest behind him.

“Do you want the blindfold off?” Martin asks, running his fingers through Jon’s hair. “And you can talk, okay?”

“I—” Now that he’s actually allowed to speak, words abruptly feel like too much, and in the end Jon just shakes his head, tucking his head tight under Martin’s chin a moment later so that one of them would have to make him move to get the blindfold off anyway.

Martin catches what he’s doing, apparently, because he makes a soothing noise and moves his hand away from Jon’s head, purposefully non-threatening.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, Jon. You can keep it on. We’re not going to take it, right?”

“Makes no difference to me,” Tim answers, which is probably as close to a flat-out yes as they’re likely to get out of him. It’s enough, though, and Jon relaxes, though he still keeps himself tucked in against Martin with his head under Martin’s chin.

(he falls asleep like that, curled up between the two of them in the dark behind the blindfold, and in that place and that time none of the rest of it matters; not the Unknowing, not the Archives, just the two of them warm and present and holding him close)


End file.
